


wine drunk

by Anonymous



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Aaravos, M/M, Oral, Rimming, The Past, Ziard the original dark mage, sex in the name of science, top Ziard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 01:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20267710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: set in the past, when Aaravos and Ziard were both young enough to have stupid questions they would have learned the answers to in school.TDLR Aaravos doesn't think he has a prostate and Ziard shows him he does. with his tongue.





	wine drunk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettydragonboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettydragonboy/gifts).

> commission for Hazel on twitter <3 thanks for your patience hun
> 
> NOTE: hey sorry I threw a chapter update onto the wrong fix! Sorry if anyone got excited

* * *

* * *

Ziard sat forward in surprise, leg slipping off the arm of the plush chair and dropping to the floor. He covered his mouth to keep from spraying his wine, but snorted despite himself.

“_Shit_, now there’s wine on my pants,” he wiped his hand uselessly, stretching his arm out to place his goblet somewhere a little more stable then his own hands. “What do you mean, you don’t_ ‘have that’_? What’s _that,_ Aaravos?” Ziard scrapped his hair away from his flushed face, looking at the Startouched elf.

Aaravos reclined in the lounge opposite of him, one foot up on its edge, bare toes buried in the fur throws draping the furniture. They were both a rather lot farther into their cups then usual for their little _cultural exchanges_, having arrived some hours earlier, and although Ziard had – by necessity, as it was elf wine- been watering his, Aaravos had been matching him cup for cup. His sparkling skin made it difficult to discern, but the mage was certain elf or not, Aaravos was just as plastered as him.

Otherwise, what was their excuse for this conversation? One could call it bizarre, if trying to avoid calling it inappropriate.

Aaravos gestured vaguely with his cup, making an up and down motion that captured most of Ziard.

“We do not have…. The little button. Up the ass.” He took another sip while Ziard choked on his own spit, lashes fluttering in a knowing fashion as he watched the mage from above the rim of his glass. Aaravos waited just long enough for him to gather himself, before leaning forward to put his glass down on the table between them. His robe gaped, showing a full half of his chest, and teasing a glimpse of the firm stomach, before he straightened with a shrug.

“You know, when you do that I can see your nipples.” Ziard said dryly.

Aaravos flicked his hair back behind one shoulder, “Only one nipple. Two is lewd and crass.”

He snorted, reaching for the glass he’d already put away. “You have had far too much wine.”

An elegant flip of his hand; Aaravos didn’t go so far as to flip him off, but it was implied. There was a certain interpretation necessary, but Ziard had known him long enough to tell.

“We’re both drunk. Tell me about this special human spot, it sounds fun. Can I touch yours?”

Ziard choked for the second time in as many minutes, glad he hadn’t managed to find his glass- the elf was grinning at him, and the knowing glitter in Aaravos’s eyes made Ziard suspect his mentor was far less drunk then he was pretending to be. He considered the elf for a moment; body relaxed, posture open, barely clad in that ridiculous silk skirt of his. It rode up on sparkling thigh, and Ziard’s eyes lingered on the soft skin barely hidden by the shimmering fabric. Aaravos shifted, letting his knees fall farther apart. An easy to dismiss invitation. If he wanted to dismiss it.

Ziard glanced up to meet amber eyes. The elf tipped his glass back, widening his legs again meaningfully. The human mage licked his lips, then decided to go with it.

“Tell you what, Aaravos…” he pushed himself out of his chair, his feet sinking into the luxurious rug as he stepped into the elf’s space. Ziard leaned down, hands braced on either arm of Aaravos’s chair. Up close, Aaravos smelled like flowers and wine; the promise of sweet, intoxicating things.

“Why don’t I show you?”

The elf’s eyes glittered with mirth, and he raised a hand to his lips, _hmm_ing. “I don’t know, I just started this glass, and you look _salty_—” he cut off with a yelp as he was gripped under the knees, and tipped onto his back. His glass made a dull chime when it hit the rug, red wine sinking into the fur and fabric.

Ziard grinned down at the surprised elf, smoothing one hand down his captive thigh, roughened fingertips pushing the light silk slowly down, but he kept touch teasingly light.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out of an _experiment_? The great mage himself, scared of a little hands on research?” Ziard tutted, “That’s a shame. The little…._ button_…. Is quite fun.”

Aaravos flushed, expression teetering between indignant and intrigued. He relaxed his grip on Ziard’s arm, leaning back with a soft exhale. A faint shiver ran through the muscles under Ziard’s hands, and then Aaravos became once more languid, looking up at him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I’ll participate in this _experiment_, but when I’m right and there’s nothing for you to find, _I_ get to touch _yours_.” Despite him professed disbelief, Aaravos looked excited. The flush in his cheeks was deeper, not just from the kiss of the wine staining their lips.

Ziard grinned. “Deal.”

He wasted no time, hooking Aaravos’s legs over his shoulders, and pushing aside his clothing. The elf was half hard, his cock swelling against his underwear; a bead of moisture appeared, dampening the silk when Ziard touched him hesitantly through the fabric. Another time, this might go a very… different direction, with what Aaravos had trapped under the black silk. He considered expanding his offer, but stopped, considering the awkward angle Aaravos’s horns forced him to hold his head at; the elf arched a brow, and Ziard shifted his legs again.

“Here, roll onto your stomach. You’ll be much more comfortable.” Rushed, not quite impatient but almost. Ziard’s voice was roughened by lust.

He tugged on his hips, guiding Aaravos until his ass was up in the air so he was kneeling on the edge of the lounge but with his feet hanging off the edge, Ziard between them; Ziard dropped slowly to his knees, stroking the swell of his mentor’s firm ass in soft, reverent touches. _We can blame it on the wine,_ he told himself, as he squeezed two handfuls of that plush ass.

Up close, the stars that marked his blue-purple skin winked and twinkled, seeming the sparkle faster as Aaravos’s heartbeat sped up. Ziard pushed Aaravos’s skirt up, slowly- let the material drag across his sensitive sack, until Aaravos shivered underneath him, and moaned softly. Inch by sensitive inch, until finally, his skirt lay crumbled up around his waist, only the black cloth of his undergarment shielding him from Ziard’s eyes.

He peeled them down, pulling the tight cloth until it was midway down his thighs. Tentatively, he lay his lips against the swell of his ass. _His skin is so warm_.

The mage rubbed Aaravos’s ass, then parted his cheeks, holding him spread with both hands. The soft noises coming from his mentor were intoxicating; the great mage shifted, and shivered, little surprised gasps at every touch. He pressed back into Ziard’s hands, encouraging him to grip his ass firmer. 

He was hazy on how they had gotten to this point, when he had decided to put his mouth _here_, but Ziard leaned in, and traced his tongue along the rim of Aaravos’s hole; the elf jerked forward, then melted back, pressing eagerly into his touch, and Ziard took hold of his hips and thrust his tongue inside him. 

Aaravos moaned in surprised, the squirming wet heat piercing his body; Ziard didn’t go deep enough, but the mage held him firm and started a brisk pace, licking into his body like he was a delicacy and Ziard was a starving man. His hole clenched on Ziard’s tongue, and the human pulled his hips back, thumbs tugging on the rim of his hole to open him wider. After what felt like an age, Ziard had to pull back to breath, leaving a trial of saliva dripping down Aaravos’s ass.

The elf was surprised to find he himself was panting, body hot like he was flushed, with sweat gathering at the backs of his knees and the small of his back. He raked a hand through his hair, pulling it away from his neck.

“See?” He panted, after a moment, “Nothing like- _OoHhHH!” _his voice rose in a startled moan, nipples hardening as hot pleasure flashed up his spine; Ziard has inserted a finger into his spit slicked hole, and pressed on something inside his body, at just the right angle to make Aaravos’s head spin. He clutched the furs on the lounge, mouth dropping open as a pearly drop of pre fell from the tip of his flushed cock to the floor.

The air was filled with the sounds of their breathing, and the wet noise of Ziard pushing his finger in and out of Aaravos. He could feel the smug smile against his thigh, as the human lay a series of kisses along it, before replacing his finger with his mouth once more.

His lips pressed against the intimate, sensitive skin, tongue tracing his rim before pushing deep, deeper then before. Saliva dripped down his legs; Aaravos dropped onto on elbow, burying his face in the side of the lounge, and moaned, reaching between his legs for his hard cock.

Ziard beat him to it.

The mage had rough hands. Course, with callouses and dark stains from unknown things; His palm was dry, but his touch was light. He stroked Aaravos slowly, gathering the moisture of his own excitement to use to smooth the stroke, and letting the elf tilt his hips into his hand. But he never set a faster pace, torturing him as Aaravos’s voice grew louder and more needy.

“_D-damn you, Ziard!I” _cursed the elf, torn between pushing back into his wicked mouth, and thrusting into his traitorous hand. Ziard held his own cock in his other hand, stroking himself fast as he serviced the elf.

That clever tongue reached farther then Aaravos would have though; it slid against the spot inside him, making his vision flash and his skin spark, but was never quite enough. His thighs shook from denied pleasure.

Ziard pulled back once more, and his voice was raspy, although his amusement was clear. “Perhaps they do not educate your kind as well as you thought?”

Two fingers returned to his hole, holding it wider so Ziard’s tongue could push deep inside him; Aaravos felt the hot pants of his breath up his spin, the press of his nose just where the swell of his ass began; when he opened his mouth this wide, there was a hard brush of teeth, and Aaravos spread his legs wider, reaching down to stroke his own cock now that Ziard had abandoned it.

Pleasure came in wave after hot wave. The very idea of Ziard doing this, of how frantic his motions sounded while he stroked himself; Aaravos groaned, and tensed, cumming suddenly. He pressed his face hard into the side of the lounge to stifle the hard moan as he painted the furs with pearly cum, but the greedy mage between his legs kept going, tongue flicking inside him, thrusting in and out until Aaravos had to reach back and grab him by the hair, too sensitive to continue.

Ziard adjusted so he was draped over Aaravos’s back, arm hooked around his waist and his face pressed into his neck as Ziard frantically stroked himself to finish.

Hot human cum splashed against his thighs, dripping thickly down the backs of them as Ziard sagged against him. No doubt there was semen on the furniture- Aaravos remembered the wineglass, tipped over on the floor, and sighed.

Gentle hands wiped the cum from his legs, tugging his underwear up carefully. They squished wetly as his damp body was caught within them, but getting clean was nearly as fun as getting dirty- Aaravos looked over his shoulder at the mage. He was pink faced, hair sweaty and hanging in his eyes, but looked very pleased with himself.

Ziard smoothed Aaravos’s skirt down, rolling the mage onto his back. Since they were close, Aaravos simply tugged Ziard down with him- the lounge was luxurious by most standards, and they fit, as long as they curled up close together. When they had settled, he cocked a brow.

“And what are your findings, mage Ziard?” prompted Aaravos, chin on Ziard’s chest. The mage reached out, and gently settled a strand of Aaravos’s white hair back into place.

“That you either lied, or you failed anatomy in school.”

**Author's Note:**

> Due to people not understand you can't harrass me into writing more of this ship since it was a one off for someone else, I am switching it onto anon with no anonymous comments or kudoing enabled. Please stop bothering me over other social media, I do not ship this it was a special thing for someone else.


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